


truss fall

by backpedaled



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: :), Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), bUBBA PLS, i had this tagged but then i had to change all of it lol, i'm a cunt, marshall is a sensitive child, theatre nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6779875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backpedaled/pseuds/backpedaled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/140720496470/imagine-person-a-as-the-lead-in-a-school-play">this post</a>.<br/>Somehow morphed into this mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	truss fall

**Author's Note:**

> Fangs' Fic Week?  
> More like four months.
> 
> Enjoy~ ♥

xx

  


Marshall finished sweeping up the debris from a broken set piece and propped the broom against the wall. He began putting away extra cables and wires laying around upstage, when he heard a low painful groan coming from the green room. Eyes widening, he cautiously picked the broom back up defensively and slowly made his way, peeking his head through the doorframe.

 

“Bubba?”

 

The blond haired, blue-eyed boy stared up at him a moment before jumping up from his spot on the floor and smoothing out his clothes. “I’m fine,” he muttered, more to himself. “I’m okay.” Marshall watched him questioningly, but didn’t say a word. Sudden shouts coming from the auditorium seats demanded their attention and Bubba cleared his throat. “They probably need me,” he said, before taking his leave. Marshall continued tidying up backstage, trying to get rid of any worrying thoughts.

  
  


“BUBBA. Why do you keep spacing out? Honestly, get it together already!”

 

Marshall peeked through the curtains, curious of the commotion. He knew something was off about Bubba, but looking at him now something was definitely wrong. The boy was pale and shiny from sweat, continuously messing up his lines, and unsteady on his feet. He couldn’t bear it.

 

“Miss Simone, he doesn’t look well,” came the good-natured response from the play’s other lead, Fionna.

 

“Whatever, we’ll get this run through over with faster if someone else reads his lines for today. Someone make sure he gets home.” Marshall decided he’d be pretty smart if he stopped hiding behind the curtains.

 

“I can take him.”

  
  


Marshall pulled up into Bubba’s driveway, putting the car into park before turning it off completely. The latter was fast asleep. Marshall watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and sighed to himself softly.

 

_Why’d he let it come to this?_

 

He got out the car and walked around it, opening the door and picking up the smaller boy into his arms. He walked up the path and front steps, grabbing the spare key from the terracotta pot long forgotten. While juggling the keys and all 135 pounds that is Bubba, he managed to unlock the front door and swing it open without dropping him. He crosses over the threshold and kicks the door closed behind him before trudging up the stairs. Looking down at the sleeping boy cradled in his arms, he notices the bags forming under his eyes.

 

_He hasn’t been taking care of himself._

 

That thought was only reinforced when Marshall opened the door to Bubba’s room and was met with the extremely rare sight of it being a complete mess. To think, Bubba was under so much stress that he was slowly starting to fall apart, tugged at Marshall’s heart. He laid him down on his bed and pulled off his sneakers before placing a cover over him. As he left, he picked up wrappers and other miscellaneous trash and shut the door softly.

 

_I really hope it’s not because of me._

  


xx

 

_Knock, knock._

 

“Coming!” The Gumball residence’s front door swings open to reveal a middle aged woman of fair complexion. “Marshall! Oh honey, it’s so nice to see you!” Marshall lets himself get pulled into a hug. “I was just asking Bubba why you never come around anymore.”

 

“I got busy,” he lies.

 

Mama Gumball is clearly not buying it, but she lets it slide. “You came to see Bubba, right? He’s in his room.” She steps aside to let Marshall in. “Oh, do you mind taking this to him?” She disappears into the kitchen for a brief moment before returning with a bowl of tomato soup in her hands. It smelled heavenly. “I’m getting ready for a job interview,” she says, positively beaming. Marshall smiles fondly at her while carefully taking the bowl into his hands.

 

“It’s nice to see things are finally looking up for you.”

  
  


When Marshall walks into Bubba’s room, the latter appears to be reading. The insistent sounds of tapping buttons say otherwise.

 

“Are you playing video games?” Bubba jumps three feet into the air, clutching at his heart and swearing under his breath.

 

“Thank heavens, it’s just you,” he sighs.

 

“Not just me,” Marshall grins, “Soup’s here, too.” He notices the PSP peeking out from under the covers and his grin becomes fond. “Grounded again, huh? That why I startled you?” Bubba sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, eyes refusing to meet Marshall’s.

 

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

 

Marshall makes his way deeper into the room and places the bowl on his desk, pleased to note that the room was tidier since his last visit. “I brought your classwork,” Marshall says.

 

“Oh?” Bubba scoots closer to his desk and begins nursing his soup. Marshall subconsciously watches his movements and is caught staring. Bubba gazes up at him with innocent eyes as he blows on a spoon full of the savory medicine. “Are you ok?” he asks. Marshall feels his cheeks burn.

 

“I should be asking you that,” he mutters.

  


xx

 

 

 

Marshall was torn. To knock, or not to knock? To run, or not to run? But that wasn't the question. Marshall knocked on the door.

 

A tired, disheveled Bubba answered the door clad in pink boxers and his shirt. _Marshall’s_ shirt. The blond bastard had the nerve to offer him a sleepy smile as he rubbed at his still adjusting eyes. _Jesus, fucking--_

 

“I thought you got _rid_ of that thing.” A grimace flashed on Bubba’s face before he answered.

 

“Believe me, I tried.”

  
  


Sitting next to a half undressed Bubba on his bed would have been ideal at a different time. Right now, he was just doing his best to keep his self control in check. Bubba seemed to realize the situation as he quickly stood and crossed the room towards his closet, tips of his ears a burning red. Marshall let himself fall back and stare at the ceiling in an effort to give him some privacy.

 

“Done.” Marshall propped himself up with his arms and flashed Bubba a cheesy grin.

 

“Shall we get started then?”

  
  


“Wait, it says they kiss here.” Marshall looked up from the script in his hands to face Bubba, who was most definitely not looking back at him, opting to stare down at the floor with heated cheeks instead. “Bubba?”

 

Marshall watched as he slowly turned his head toward him. When his eyes finally flickered up to meet his, Marshall’s breath caught in his throat. The sorrow, the _longing_ in his eyes, hellbent on making him cave--it was too much.

 

One second Bubba was on the other side of the bed, the next he was pretty much in his lap and Marshall couldn’t breathe.

 

So he closed his eyes instead.

 

Marshall remembered this taste. The feeling of Bubba’s lips on his own, the weight of bodies pressed against bodies. His hesitation turned to hunger and he quickly pinned the boy beneath him.

 

Remembered how much it hurt when Bubba told him no. Remembered sleepless nights filled with wondering what the fuck he did wrong. His hunger turned to rage before it mellowed out into sadness as he pulled away.

 

Marshall knew what the question was.

 

“Why are you doing this to me?” he managed to choke out. Bubba’s blue eyes sprung with fresh tears that threatened to break Marshall’s resolve.

 

“Marshall, I’m so sorry. _Baby_ , I’m so--”

 

“ _Don’t_. Please.”

  
  


As he was walking out the door, he realized he would have to answer his question relatively soon. Nothing scared him more than fucking up again. His mind was blank; sparse except for one nagging thought, adamant on leaving him alone.

 

_How the fuck am I supposed to tell this boy how much I really need him?_

  
 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a pun (forgive me).  
> overall, i feel like the quality of this fluctuates...
> 
> (there's a part two to all this)


End file.
